


Hearth and Home

by sheepybaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, In honor of Jo's new interview
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:39:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepybaa/pseuds/sheepybaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The fire's burned low, the children are in bed.  It's unusually chilly for the summer, a little too dim and just a touch rainy.  </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In honor of JK Rowling's new interview: what could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearth and Home

Everything was quiet at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. The children were in bed, the pots and pans were washed, and the fireplace had burned low, down to near embers. It was unusually chilly for the summer, a little too dim and just a touch rainy. 

Unfocused, Harry found himself tugging the sleeves of his sweater lower, curling in on himself in an effort to fight off the cold. It had been quite warm, earlier, with the fire still roaring, but now the poor thing was in desperate need of rekindling. He shifted idly and felt around for his wand. It was always getting lost in the cracks of this couch. 

“Looking for something?” 

Harry flopped his head back. His wife smiled down at him, one brow raised. Not a little sheepishly, he reached up and took his wand from her hand. "Thanks, love."

She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “One of these days, you’ll put it down somewhere and I won’t find it for you,” she scolded, settling into the spot beside him. With a flick of her own wand, she set the hearth ablaze. Harry frowned and looked at her, a bit put out. 

“I was going to take care of that.” 

She snorted. “You certainly weren’t, not with _your_ fire charms.”

He sighed; a small, token protest—they both knew she was right. She always was. He curled his arm around her and pulled her to his side. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he smiled. It was plenty warm now. 

A warm, comforting feeling settled over him like a well-worn quilt. Her body was familiar in the way it pressed against his, just like the sound of her breathing slowing as she melted against him. He stroked her hair and watched the flickering fire dance through the grate. There was little better to be had than this. 

“Do you ever wonder what it'd be like, if things had turned out differently?” he murmured some time later, into the warm air of the living room. After a beat, he looked down, puzzled. “Hermione—?”

Her breathing was soft and even in sleep, eyelashes soft crescents against her skin. Harry huffed and rested his cheek against her head. 

“No,” he said fondly, “I suppose you don’t.”

She was warm in his arms as he carried her up to bed.


End file.
